


There is No Happy End

by clueless_nameless



Series: Undertale(s): The Last Reset and Other Lines [4]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Timelines, Depression, F/M, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Post-Pacifist Route
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-29
Updated: 2015-11-29
Packaged: 2018-05-03 23:19:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,371
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5310911
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clueless_nameless/pseuds/clueless_nameless
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes life is too real and you realize there will never be a happy end for you, or him, or anyone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	There is No Happy End

**Author's Note:**

> Angry Frisk, or maybe just I-don't-need-your-help Frisk. Stubborn Frisk? Yeah, stubborn Frisk. (To be continued) Can be placed somewhere in between chapter 16 and chapter 26 of The Last Reset.

“frisk as much as i love seeing your face at three in the morning, and believe me i happen to love seeing your face at nearly any time of day, i also happen to love being asleep at three in the mor-“ he cut off rather quickly when you began to cry.

“well, shit, kid, i-i’m sorry.” You hesitated, tears making lazy trails down your cheeks. You were a quiet crier. You were just quiet in general. Sans always understood this. It’s why he never pressured you to talk, he even took time to learn sign language for your benefit.

He knew you could talk, though. He’d heard your voice only a few times, and he was pretty damn sure that was a few more times than anyone else had. He wasn’t sure why you trusted him so much considering he’d done some pretty fucked up things in his life… in his lives… Time was such a weird concept.

You launched yourself toward him, tears coming faster now. He caught you, barely, but he held you tightly, running a hand through your tangled hair. It soothed him just as much as it tended to sooth you. You were mumbling something into his shoulder, but the fabric of his overlarge jacket muffled your soft voice too much for him to hear. Gently he pushed you back to look you in the face, “hey, frisk, i snow you feel like hail right now, well, sleet, i mean, so do i, but ice see no reason you can’t talk about it with your ol’ pal, sans.”

You managed to crack a smile, but there were still tears in your eyes. It hurt Sans’ soul to watch you be in so much emotional pain.

“You ever wonder why you’re alive sometimes?” He winced, but you didn’t notice, “You ever want to just fall asleep and never wake up?”

“I do,” you answer too quickly. “I feel like dying again and again wasn’t enough. I feel like I need to just do it myself because that’s the only way it’ll actually stick.” He tightened his grip on you, but you hardly felt a thing, you were numb, your eyes had a glazed look to them. It seemed like you weren’t exactly completely present, instinctively Sans held tighter to you like he could prevent you from slipping away again.

“I know I’m unwanted.” Sans opened his mouth to argue but for the first time in your life you talked over him, “Yeah, whatever, say what you will, I know what your nightmares are about.”

“I know what I’ve done in past lifetimes.”

“I know what you’ve done.”

He stopped breathing. If he’d had a physical heart it probably would have beaten itself right out of his chest.

“Sometimes I never made it to the Ruins, you know? Sometimes I hit a rock on my way down and my crumpled body landed in the golden bed of flowers with a dead thud.” You shook your head slightly, a sad smile worming its way onto your chapped lips.

“frisk?”

“Yeah?”

“why _did_ you climb mount ebbott?”

You stiffened. You could bare your soul to him about so many things, you could tell him about the cuts on your legs and why they were there, you could tell him why you woke up screaming and tearing at your scalp, you could tell him why sometimes when you’d shower you’d scrub your skin so hard it’d bled, like you could just remove murder off of your hands with one wash, you could tell him so much. But it was hard to explain a past that you didn’t fully understand yourself.

“Knock knock.” You said.

If he had eyebrows they’d probably be sky high right now, instead he only gave you an exasperated look before asking, “who’s there?”

“A herd.”

“a herd who…?” he asked, grimacing.

“A herd that you came home drunk last night.”

He frowned, the expression seemed so unnatural on his face; you only blinked innocently in response.

“frisk, why are you bringing this up?” So what if he drank? He was an adult. He was a little bit wrong in the head sometimes, but, well, so were you. Besides, it wasn’t like you hadn’t drank yourself silly so many times before as well. Sometimes it was the only way you’d managed to fall asleep without crying your eyes out first.

“You don’t even like alcohol.”

“neither do you but that doesn’t stop you from your late-night shots.”

Ouch. You hadn’t even realized he knew about that. You knew you had a problem, you knew you weren’t being healthy, but, well, hell, it ran in the family, didn’t it? So it wasn’t really like you stood a chance against the addiction any way.

“I went to the mountain to disappear. I went there to die.” The words were harsh in your mouth. Suddenly you felt vulnerable. You weren’t sure you’d be able to keep talking at this rate.

_Laughing was heard, it was too loud for your sensitive ears. The smells were too harsh on your young nose. It was like this every night so why did it bother you so much? Shouldn’t you be used to it by now? They’d be asleep soon any way, you’d only have to lay a blanket across their limp forms so they wouldn’t catch a cold in the night, then you could hide out in your room until morning. Maybe if you got up in time you could make them some greasy food and their hangover wouldn’t be so bad._

_You needed to go to the store and pick up more aspirin. You needed milk, too. Vaguely you wondered if the clerk would question a ten year old buying groceries._

_“Eyyy, Frisky Frisk Frisk. Come here, sssweetie.” You grimaced, what could it be this time?_

“did you have other people to take care of you ever?” You shook your head in response, eyes cast downward.

“frisk, are they alive still?” You shrugged.

_A shadow in the doorway, you hid behind the door itself, hoping and praying they’d just go to bed instead of come into your room. No such luck. A drunken woman stumbled into your room, you flinched away when she saw you hiding. She only smiled, it seemed sick and twisted. With the crook of her finger she motioned you forward. Obediently, you came. “Sssee here F-Frisk, I’s got a call from your teacher today. Sh’says that you was ignoring her and being a smartass.”_

_You frowned and opened your mouth to protest. Her hand came around and slapped you before you could defend yourself from your teacher’s accusations._

“Probably.”

“frisk, what happened as a child?”

“Nothing I didn’t deserve.” You sighed. “Worthless, useless, selfish, mean, uncompassionate—“

“are things to describe anyone but you,” he cut you off. You turned your body to face him. You couldn’t read his expression, nor could you see what was going on in his head. He was always so good at reading your emotions yet anytime you tried to wrap your mind around who he was he seemed to retract and change before you could manage it. It wasn’t fair.

“My mother used to hit me.”

His grip tightened on you, but he didn’t say anything, so you continued, “they used to come home drunk every night. When I was younger I must not have noticed it, but as I got older I realized how my mom would fall in the driveway because she couldn’t even walk straight she was so drunk. And when I’d go to help her up my dad… my dad would yell. He’d swear, ‘get the fuck away.’”

_“Mother, c’mon, I’ll take you to bed.” You grabbed her hand and she vaguely swatted at you, a hysterical laugh bubbling from her. You tried again and this time she pushed you back a little._

_Your father came out then and you didn’t see his regular gentle self, instead you only saw anger. “Get the fuck out, you’re causing a scene.” Your heart pounded as you moved out of his way._

“frisk…” He sounded so sad, you couldn’t breathe.

“I don’t need your pity, Sans.” With that you got up and left.

**Author's Note:**

> why am i so full of angst... or should i say sangst ;DD ... yeah? no, you're right, that wasn't very sansational...  
> (pleasefightme)


End file.
